


We're Not Alone

by WipperSnapper24



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Aged-Up Losers Club (IT), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Mike Hanlon, Bisexual Richie Tozier, F/M, Gay Bill Denbrough, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, M/M, Mild Smut, Stan is complicated let's not talk about him here, Stenbrough will be endgame, Tags May Change, it's just a slow road to get there, original creature, they're in college so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 02:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16076099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WipperSnapper24/pseuds/WipperSnapper24
Summary: On the night of September 24th, 2017, 199 people were killed by one creature.On the night of September 25th, 2017, a frail curly haired 19 year old boy limped out of the woods. Nobody knows who he is, including the actual boy himself.Yet somehow, he is the only one who can stop this unstoppable creature. He just needs to remember how.





	1. One Bad Night

Suddenly he was running, his legs moving so fast it was entirely possible they might actually drop off. Wentworth Tozier didn’t know what that thing was, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

Rain splattered against his face and the only light was from the moon. Curse the person who decided today was a good idea for the streetlamps to not work.

Clothes sticking to him, he slowed down. Why was he running again? Surely it was nothing. It had been extremely dark in the alley after all, maybe he had been seeing things? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

Wentworth remembered that he had been taking the rubbish out from the restaurant he worked at when he saw it, his shift finally was almost over (thank fuck for that!). As he hauled the hefty trash bag towards the outside bins, he saw It for the first time.

Between the two filthy bins, hovering just above the shattered glass that nobody could be bothered to take care of, was a black smokey cloud. Or at least that’s what he thought it was; the dim orange glow that came through the window behind him certainly was not good enough to get a decent look.

But It was looking at him, of that Wentworth was almost certain. It didn’t have eyes yet somehow It still found a way to look at him. Not knowing what to do, he did all his frightened brain could think of in that moment. He felt himself drop the bag, and then he bolted.

And now his legs had taken him here, on the intersection of Jackson Street and Witcham Street; feeling like what could only be described as a drowned rat.

It was not following him, whatever It was. At least that’s what he tried to convince himself. In that moment, scared and helpless, he truly knew absolutely nothing.

Slowing to a complete stop, Wentworth turned around. With no light to aid him, he could barely see to the end of the street. But there was movement. And that movement was fast. Very fast.

Towards him. It was coming towards  _him_ very fast.

Smokey. Black and smokey. The thing. It  _was_  following him!

Wentworth couldn’t outrun It. How could he? It was very almost at him. And then what could he do? Nothing.

But he could try. His feet were moving faster than they ever had before. The rain seemed to be coming down harder and harder, blurring his vision more and more. Then his eyes caught sight of a storm drain.

It was stupid. Very stupid. But in the spur of the moment Wentworth did it anyway. Flinging himself onto the road, he slid down into the storm drain, landing with a splash in the litres of rainwater.

He couldn’t see anything anymore. The noise of water splashing down onto the storm drains floor was all that could be heard. No footsteps chasing after him, nobody coming to his aid. Just his deep breathing, the heavy rain and the water from the overflowing streets pouring onto him.

As he tried to control his breathing, he thought of his loving wife, and his beautiful yet slightly trashmouthy son. Would he ever have the luxury of seeing them again?

Something grabbed him by the neck. It wasn’t human; it didn’t even feel like a hand. But it didn’t matter how it grabbed him, the real problem was that it was trying to drag him out of the drain. Onto the streets. Onto death.

Wentworth tried to resist, to grab something to hold onto. But there was nothing. Nothing to do but let himself be dragged.

Slamming down in a puddle on the road and gasping for air, Wentworth found himself staring directly at his attacker. It was the black smokey cloud. It was mere inches away from him. It was coming closer, and closer, and closer. It was entering his body through any orifice it could find.

He was screaming, yet no sound was coming out. He was choking, yet he wasn’t.

Burning. His throat was burning. It seeped further and further into him. His throat burned more and more.

Then everything stopped.

It was no longer there, hovering above him like some mystical being. It was fully inside him.

Wentworth pushed himself off the floor into a sitting position, eyes droopy and body weary. But he didn’t do that.

His arms moved to feel his face, his chest, and yet he hadn’t moved them.

_Alright then_

A thought in Wentworth’s head, but it wasn’t his.

A searing pain exploded in his head. This time Wentworth was allowed to scream out, and he did. But he wasn’t the only one.

An inhumane screech ripped apart the silence of the night, but it was coming from him as well!

The pain only got more and more great, causing more and more screaming. It felt like something was squashing his head, smaller and smaller. But heads don’t work that way. Heads can’t cope with such a large amount of pressure. Yet it still rose and rose. He wouldn’t be able to cope with the searing pain much more.

And he didn’t.

Wentworth’s head exploded. Gore and blood erupted like a volcano from his neck and painted the side of the road red. His headless body, still spurting out ruby red blood, slammed against the floor of the road. Dead.

He was the first victim of that night.

 

 

Dominick Terri looked at the bottom right of his computer screen. The time read ‘00:39’, which  meant his shift was very almost over. Luckily, for a first night, there hadn’t been a single incident yet. He thought this job was going to be fucking difficult! But as it turned out, thieves just weren’t interested in ‘Winston’s Jewellery: the finest in all of Derry’.

Sure he had been sitting on a piece of shit wooden chair for hours now and yes, his back was fucking killing him, but nothing too god awful had actually happened (unless you counted spilling coffee all over his new faded jeans). Instead, Dom could just sit back, relax, occasionally check the security cameras for any disturbances and play Candy Crush.

But all good things must come to an end.

Dom sighed deeply. He just couldn’t pass this fucking level, no matter what he did. Just as he was about to press ‘Try again’ for what felt like the 50 millionth time, his eyes darted to the monitor. A motion blur.

Something small and fast was in the shop. He hadn’t seen it properly, but there was no doubt that it was definitely something worth checking out. At least it was only an animal; no human could be that speedy.

Sighing again, he pocketed his phone, picked up the flashlight and left the office. Dom ran through a plan in his head: get the animal out, return to play Candy Crush. It was a pretty simple plan, and probably shouldn’t have required any thinking time to come up with it. But whatever. After all, what harm could a small animal bring to him anyway?

Entering into the main shop area, Dom moved from the doorway to the central space. From here he would be able to see every nook and cranny of the store, as long as he shined his flashlight into it first.

It was hiding behind a display case near the back of the shop, where the most expensive jewellery was kept. Dom could only be grateful this was only an animal; his boss would kill him if a robber had stolen  _those_  items.

“Alright then,” Dom muttered, moving slowly towards the case, careful to make as little noise as possible, “Let’s get you out of here,”

Placing a hand on the case, he slowly peeked around the corner with the intention of seeing what he was dealing with. But that turned out to be pointless. It appeared the animal had heard him coming; it wasn’t there.

“Dammit” Dom sighed. Dammit indeed. How bloody fast was this thing? And how was it so silent? Turning around, his eyes widened as big as saucers. Heart stopped and going cold, he registered the being in front of him. It was a black smokey cloud, and it certainly wasn’t an animal.

Dom took a step back. It came for him, flying directly into his mouth. The impact of it sent him flying. He landed directly onto the display case; it shattered instantly.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. As his throat burned, he fell taking the broken glass and expensive jewellery with him. Golden watches, bracelets; all now broken because of him. Then he landed, and instantly cried out in pain.

Something sharp was lodged right in his back.

Glass.

Dom could already feel a pool of blood forming from the new wound.

_Useless_

That thought wasn’t Dom’s. Whose was it?              

Bile was building its way up from inside him, threatening to project out at any second. Then the smoke began to pour out of his mouth, fleeing as quickly as it had entered. The burning was back, only this time worse. Much, much worse. If Dom had the ability to cry out in pain, he would have.

Finally it was over. The last of the smoke escaped him, leaving through an air vent, off to search for another poor soul. Dom was left shaking. Alone.

As promised, a stream of chunky, green and yellow bile spewed from his mouth, painting himself and the surroundings.

Sitting in a pool of his own vomit and blood, surrounded by sharp glass, Dom died.

He was the second victim of that night.

 

 

The sound of the front door opening stirred Tom Fen from his slumber. In the background, the television was still on, playing the latest episode of ‘The Walking Dead’. Straightening his glasses and pushing his curly blonde hair out of his face, he made his way into the hallway with a slight smile plastered on his face. It didn’t matter how tired he was, Tom would always be so, so very happy to see his husband, Danny.

Sure enough, he was there. As Danny hung up his fluffy oversized coat, Tom couldn’t help but smile even wider. But then he always did. Somehow, the couple had never grown out of their puppy love stage, not that Tom was complaining or anything.

For a moment, he just admired Danny. His auburn hair pushed slightly to the side (like he had worn it ever since they were young), his deep blue eyes, his toned body. Everything. Even the imperfections he had were perfect. But then, how they could not be? It was Danny; everything about him was beautiful.

“Hey babe,” Tom said, breaking out of his stupor. The sudden unexpected voice caused Danny to jump, which just made Tom smile wider. Realising it was only Tom, his lips eased into a relaxed grin, “Good day?”

“It was alright I guess,” Danny sighed, slowly sauntering over to him before taking Tom’s hand in his, “Paperwork, paperwork and more paperwork. Could have been worse,”

“Could’ve had to teach Richie Tozier,”

“I don’t know how you put up with that kid,”

“He’s a laugh, sometimes,” Tom responded, “Especially when you’re not the butt of the joke,”

“I guess so,” Danny gave a soft smile. This soon turned to a frown, “Never mind that, though. Why’re you up still? School’s gonna be hectic tomorrow, we both know this,”

“I wanted to see you,” Tom looked up at his husband, “I feel like we never see each other anymore,”

“We had a date last night?” Danny chuckled, “We then proceeded to have amazing sex, remember?”

“Of course I remember,” Tom grabbed a hold of Danny’s shirt lightly, “How could I forget? With a mouth like yours I’d be an idiot to forget,”

Leaning up to capture Danny’s mouth in a kiss, the taller man pulled back.

“Hold up Tom,” Danny teased lightly, “I need to have a shower first,”

“Just one kiss?” Tom tried to lean forward again but Danny placed a hand on his shoulder.

“No,” he chuckled, “You know full well that one kiss will turn into twenty, and then I’ll never have my shower,”

“You’re insufferable,” Tom sighed.

“I’ll be back soon,” Danny told him as he dropped Toms hand and turned around to go up the stairs. He took a few steps before stopping in his tracks. He slowly turned to look at Tom, a mischievous grin etched on his face, “Unless you wanna join me?”

“Y’know you probably won’t get much showering done if I’m there,”

“I’m willing to sacrifice that,”

Sure enough, they didn’t get much showering done. As the warm water trickled down their naked backs, their tongues danced in a perfect rhythm together.

At this point in his life, Tom had done this with Danny so many times. But never was it not a special moment to him. He was the only one who could see Danny like this, in this blissful state. And he would never ever get tired of it.

Breaking away from the kiss, Tom trailed smaller kisses down the other man’s chest. Arriving at his crotch, Tom’s tongue flicked against the head, eliciting a groan from Danny. Teasing the shaft for a few more moments and tasting the already forming pre-cum, Tom looked up to make eye-contact with Danny.

Flushed with arousal and pupils dilated, Danny looked sexier than ever to Tom. And that was definitely saying something. The mans eyes were practically beginning for Tom to get on with it already. So he did.

Taking Danny’s dick into his mouth, Tom pushed forward until the head was at the back of his throat. At this feeling, Tom let out a soft hum. The vibrations of this clearly went straight to Danny’s dick, if the man’s reaction was anything to go by.

Danny grasped a fistful of Toms hair as said man began to suck on his cock skilfully. He was going painfully slow, dragging out every slight movement and it was causing Danny to lose his mind.

“F-fuck,” he stuttered huskily as Tom once again deepthroated his entire length. He didn’t know how much more he could take of this. Any moment now…

“Fuck!” Danny cried out in pain. Instantly, Tom pulled off Danny’s cock with a pop. Had he accidently done something wrong?

“Dan?” he asked softly, looking up at the man. A black smoke was forcing its way into Dans mouth.

Flinging himself back in shock, Tom hit the wall of the shower causing a jolt of pain to go through him. But he ignored it.

“What the fuck?” Tom practically whispered. He trembled in fear as he watched the man he loved be consumed by this… thing.

There was no more black smoke. For a moment, Danny just stood there expressionless, a hazy and vacant look in his eyes. Then he looked down at Tom.

It was cold. Never before had Danny looked at him in this way, not even on the rare occasion when they argued.

In that moment, Tom did the only thing he could think of. He clambered out the shower and ran.

Down the stairs, out of the house, on to the streets. His previously erect dick was quickly turning flaccid and was swinging about like the pendulum of a grandfather clock for anyone to see. But the street was empty, and the streetlights were off. Pitch black. Danny could see nothing.

In the dark, he tripped over himself. Curse his two left feet! Crying out in pain as he slammed onto the floor, he looked behind him. Danny was right at his feet, looking down at him. How he had gotten to him so quickly and so silently Tom didn’t know. All he knew was that he was terrified. Terrified of the man he loved, if he was even in there anymore.

Tom lay there helplessly as Danny reached down towards him, grabbed him by the neck and hoisted him up into the air. Danny smiled creepily, baring his white teeth at him.

“L-let me go,” Tom got out as he gasped for air, “Pl-please Danny, l-let me-”

“No,” Danny snarled, “There must be no witnesses,”

Danny’s hands tightened even more around his throat. Tom couldn’t get any oxygen in, but he needed to! He couldn’t breathe! He needed to!

For a few more moments he struggled.

And then everything went black.

Tom Fen was the third victim of that night.

 

 

Darcy Harris’ snores filled her cosy living room, completely oblivious to the events that had just taken place in her neighbours house. As an elderly woman, she had fallen asleep long ago now. To her, that ‘lovely homosexual couple from next door were just cuddling in bed, asleep. She was completely unaware of the footsteps, concealed further by the televisions static, of one of the pair entering the room.

Danny, not that any part of him was Danny anymore, treaded carefully up behind her. This frail body wouldn’t last much longer, they could tell. They needed a new one, desperately. Why were human beings so fragile?

Shutting Danny’s eyes tight, black smoke began to pour out of his mouth. Almost straight away, it floated towards Darcy’s open, snoring mouth and entered into it. She didn’t wake up in fright, wondering what the hell was happening. And she never would.

Once the process was done, Danny’s body crumpled onto the floor. His body had served its purpose, and would now die. He was the fourth victim of that night.

Darcy opened her eyes, but she was no longer Darcy. The creature inhabiting her body slowly stood up, inhaled deeply and tried to come up with a solution.

How could they make the bodies last longer? How?

Then it hit them like a brick. Human beings were fragile, but other species were not. If they could find something, a stronger species, then they may be able to last in a physical body for longer.

And the creature knew exactly what to do. They just hoped that this frail old body would be able to take what they were about to do to it.

Darcy scrunched up her face, as if she were extremely constipated, and waited. Her body morphed into a black smoke and her physical form slowly began to contort into something much more abstract.

And then the black smoke disappeared altogether.

 

 

The smoke began to materialise in an office building that they had discovered on its assessment of the Earth. Retaking Darcy’s form, It made her look around at their surroundings. The place was empty. Good.

To the ordinary, untrained eye, it seemed like a normal office. There were desks, filing cabinets, swivel chairs and many, many water coolers dotted about the place. But they knew better.

This office was home to the ‘Casanova agency’, which stored information on extra-terrestrial beings. More specifically, it contained information on the extra-terrestrial being that they were going to inhabit. They just didn’t know which one that would be yet.

Moving stiffly towards a desk, Darcy sat down on the chair and turned to the computer. It had been left unlocked for some reason (extreme negligence no doubt), which meant that all they had to do was dig just a little for the file containing a list of all the aliens.

And it didn’t take long. Opening the file entitled ‘Currently known extra-terrestrial beings residing on planet Earth’, Darcy scrolled through, briefly reading the description of each one.

To Darcy’s surprise, there were so many different aliens on this planet to choose from! Giant worms that inhabited a safe spot in the countryside (that wouldn’t do, not subtle enough), creatures with one massive eye for a head (nope), a shapeshifter that loved entertaining children (but loved being a clown, no thanks) and a 19-year-old shapeshifter.

Wait.

That would be perfect! Nobody would expect a powerful alien to inhabit the body of a 19-year-old! And the fact that he was a shapeshifter was a massive bonus! What was its name? Darcy’s eyes focused in on the details.

Tristan.

It focused in on the picture of the boy. Grey eyes, black hair and quite slender. Attractive, but not so much that he would stick out like a sore thumb.

And what was the ‘current location’?

“Well that’s interesting,” Darcy murmured out loud, eyes lighting up, “Heading to London, flight code AEA2019. You’re just making it easy for me Casanova,”

Someone was coming. Darcy could hear footsteps coming from just down the hall. They would be here any second. Wait no. There were  _two_  sets of footsteps.

Quickly swinging under the desk, they began the process to teleport away. As she morphed back into smoke, the last thing they heard was a female voice saying: “Oh you’re no fun Ben,”

And then they were gone.

 

 

To say that Tristan was bored would be an understatement. Having finished distracting himself with the last episode of Stranger Things an hour ago, he now had nothing else to do. He hadn’t downloaded any new shows to watch, and he couldn’t be arsed to do anything else. Put it simply, the boy was depressed.

Due to the strain he knew long distance relationships would put on him and his boyfriend, Tristan had ended things with him. But put quite simply, he still had feelings for the other boy. How could you not? The perfect brown eyes, auburn hair. Everything.

Bill Denbrough was just completely amazing.

So instead of doing anything productive, Tristan opted for eating the time away and wallowing in his thoughts. As he dipped his hand into his packet of cheddar and onion crisps and picked out a particularly large one this time, Tristan started to feel somebody watching him. Following this instinct, he found an elderly woman at the front of the aircraft, just standing there, watching him, a sinister smile etched on her wrinkly face.

Tristan didn’t think that she was an air hostess (she looked much too old to be one), and he certainly hadn’t seen her before now. It certainly begged the question, who was she? And why was she staring at him like  _that_?

He guessed he wouldn’t have long to wait. At a fairly speedy pace, especially for a Granny, she moved towards him, eyes never once breaking with his.

“Can I help you?” Tristan asked, feigning politeness. He just wasn’t in the mood for anything today.

“Yes you can,” She replied. Out of her mouth, a black smoke poured. Tristan’s eyes widened in shock. He tried to make a move against her, but his little effort was futile.

As the smoke filled in to his mouth, there were screams and shouts of horror throughout the aircraft, though none of them moved to help or do anything. What would they be able to do anyway?

Finally, after a long period of his throat burning and shocked screams from the public, the process was complete.

This time, they felt complete. This body wasn’t going to fail. This body was strong and powerful, and nothing could stop the combined power of a shapeshifter and It together.

Standing up out of his seat and moving into the aisle, he examined the inner workings of the teenager. There were so many interesting ideas and strategies in here! But who was Bill Denbrough? Why was he so important to this powerful being?

Lost in thought, they didn’t notice the bald man sprinting up towards him, gun in hand, an expression of fury on his face. Tristan only turned to him when he shouted, “Fuck off you alien cunt!”

The gunshot echoed in Tristan’s ears deafeningly as the bullet propelled towards his forehead. It easily pierced directly through Tristan’s brain, exiting in a gory mess which splattered all over the floor. More screams from the onlookers who watched with fearful eyes.

Yet somehow, Tristan’s body wasn’t dead. Without a brain he was somehow still functioning, and It was still very much still inhabiting the boy’s body. But It was losing control, and fast.

They were angry; no way was it giving up this new body that easily. The perfect body. The one that could shapeshift and wouldn’t break so easily. Absolutely no way was he giving up!

It made Tristan’s body step towards the perpetrator, who visibly gulped. He wore ripped jeans and a black hoodie which bore a white, haphazardly stitched on patch. ‘EPS’ it read. Not that any of that mattered. He would be dead in a few seconds.

It didn’t know what to do; they had never been this angry before (granted he had only had free will for the past 3 hours). Unwillingly, It could feel itself morph back into the black smoke, the body of Tristan fading with It. In this form It and the body would be safe. But the anger was still there. Oh boy was it still there.

An orange glow appeared at the centre of the smoke, brightly illuminating the entire aircraft. A moment later, the orange glow exploded out, triggering the rest of the airplane to follow suit. Dust and fire went on to consume the entire area. From the outside, if you looked to where the aircraft was flying mere moments ago all you would see would be a bright, big explosion splitting the silent night.

A few seconds later and the rubble begin to fall. The largest chunk to survive was the tail end of the aircraft; it dropped directly into the ocean with an enormous splash, sending massive ripples over the sea.

Then the bodies came, only they weren’t really bodies. There were only bits of arms, bits of legs, a few bloody and burnt fingers here and there, a shoe, a ripped piece of denim, the remains of luggage, the remains of a laptop, a few human organs that were no longer functioning. All of it was burnt to a crisp, and all of it plopped into the ocean, never to be seen again.

At the centre of the explosion, the black smokey cloud was still there. It hadn’t reacted to the explosion; the bald man had had it coming for shooting him in the head. Instead, It thought to itself:

“Tristan. That’s a nice name. I’ll have that as well,”

And with that, Tristan faded away.

 

 

There were 194 people on the aircraft when it exploded. Overall on the night of September 24th, 2017,  199 people were killed.

But somehow, it was only just the beginning.

 


	2. The Same Night

While people died all over Derry, Bill Denbrough was living his life as a normal 19-year-old boy. As in, sitting in his bed with his checkered duvet wrapping him up to protect his shirtless skin from the cold and his laptop on his lap, a playlist of shitty videos ready to be watched late into the night.

Right now, he was watching a particularly amusing Vine compilation. Nothing had made him laugh out loud yet, but watching it was way better than drowning in his sorrows. Especially since his boyfriend had broken up with him a few days previous.

Bill almost didn’t hear it, too wrapped up in the memes, but just over the sound of ‘fre sha vaca do’ his ringtone could be heard.

Yanking out his earphones, Bill leaned over to his bedside table to pick up his phone, almost knocking over his glass of water as he did so. Looking to the glaring screen, Bill saw the icon of a wavy and dark-haired boy looking back at him. It was Eddie. What was Eddie doing calling him at 30 minutes past midnight?

Answering the call and holding the phone up to his ear, Bill spoke, “Al-alright Eddie?”

“Bill,” came the voice of Eddie. In the background, a faint booming of loud music could be heard, “Can you come and get me? I mean me and Richie,”

“Wh-” Bill was about to ask what Eddie was talking about when he remembered. Richie had insisted that he must go out to someone called Finns birthday party, even though it was on a Sunday.

“You’ll feel like shit all Monday!” Bill had tried to persuade his roommate, but to no avail. Richie still went. And clearly because Bill had refused (He just wasn’t in the mood for parties right now) he had roped poor Eddie into coming with him.

“Where are you?” Bill changed his question.

“Room 39, Wall Street apartments,” Eddie answered, “We’d walk back but I honestly am just too tired,”

“It’s fine Eddie, I’ll be th-th-th-th-,” Damn his stutter! It had mostly gone away, and most of the time it was just an ugly memory. But every now and then, usually when he was nervous or tired, it reared its head. Like now, for example, “Damn stutter! I’ll be there in ten,”

“Cool. Cheers Bill,” Eddie thanked him before ending the call. Putting his laptop down on the bed, Bill slowly got out of the warm haven and instantly his skin was greeted by the cold of the world (he really needed to get the heating in this damn place fixed).

Picking up a plain blue t-shirt that he had haphazardly chucked on his already cluttered desk earlier that night, he pulled it over his head before heading over to the closet and getting out simple dark grey tracksuit bottoms. It didn’t really matter that his outfit was a complete mess, he wasn’t going to be wearing it for long anyway. As Bill moved to get his phone, he pulled on the tracksuit bottoms before pocketing said phone.

Taking a brief look in the mirror, Bill ran a hand through his auburn hair in order to slightly tame it but this didn’t work; he still looked like a complete mess. Heading out of his bedroom, he stepped into the lounge area, passing through it quickly and only stopping for a quick moment to collect his blue coat. Making sure he had his keys, Bill opened the apartment door and stepped into the night.

 

 

The ding of the elevator signalled Bills arrival to the third floor, where room 39 should be. As soon as the elevator doors slid open, he was met with the sight of the room door. Thank God it was right there; Bill really couldn’t be bothered to go on a hunt tonight.

Stepping out of the brightly lit elevator and into the dimly lit corridor, Bill could instantly hear the low hum of music and the faint smell of booze. Bill sighed. Obviously the party was still in full swing, which meant that operation ‘Get Richie and Eddie Home’ was going to be a lot harder than previously thought. Why couldn’t they just be waiting outside?

Taking a deep breath, Bill knocked twice on the door of the room, really hoping that it could be heard over the sound of heavy rock. Surprisingly the door almost immediately swung open revealing a boy with slicked back dirty blonde hair. He looked at Bill with green piercing eyes, as if trying to decipher if Bill was an undercover police officer who was about to bust them all. He looked like your stereotypical douchebag jock and Bill really, really hoped that he didn’t act like that too. He really couldn’t be bothered tonight.

“Who’re you?” the boy asked with a slight slur to his voice. He was obviously slightly tipsy, but didn’t seem too drunk.

“Bill,” he replied, “I’m here to pick up my friends?”

“Who’re you’re friends?”

“Richie and Eddie,” Bill told him, not really knowing if that was enough to go off.

Surprisingly, the boy snorted in recognition, “You’re friends with Richie? Jeez. Good luck getting him home, he’s hammered,”

“Oh great,” Bill replied sarcastically, “My night just k-keeps getting better and better,”

“Innit,” the boy chuckled, “I’ll go find your mates,”

“Cheers,” Bill thanked him. Maybe the operation was actually going to be OK?

The boy gave him a flirtatious grin before turning back into the apartment, leaving the door slightly ajar as he went. Bill could only hope that the boy was only exaggerating when he said Richie was hammered.

Bill checked his phone. It was now one in the morning; he really had to be getting to sleep soon otherwise he was going to be shattered for his class tomorrow. Not long after this, the door opened again, this time revealing Eddie who was practically carrying a very drunk Richie.

“There you go,” the blonde-haired boy said proudly, “Your mates, as promised,”

“Hey Bill,” Eddie said, “How are you- oh for fucks sake Richie, you know how to walk!”

“But Edsssss…” Richie whined, hanging off Eddies arm even more so than before (if that were possible), “Can’t we stay a little longer, Eds?”

“No,” huffed Eddie. Turning to Bill, he asked, “Could you, erm-”

“Help?” Bill supplied, rushing to Richies other side and taking his weight.

“Oh hey Billy!” Richie slurred, “How you doing?”

“I’m doing great,” Bill told him, “Absolutely d-dandy, now let’s go,”

“Fineeeee,”

“Well then,” the blonde boy said from his spot by the door, “Good luck,”

“Yeah thanks,” Eddie replied grouchily, “See ya Finn,”

The boy offered another slight grin before shutting the door.

“So that’s the birthday boy?” Bill commented as they slowly heaved Richie to the elevator.

“Yep, that’s Finn,” Eddie answered, slightly struggling from Richies weight, “Bit of a fuckboy at times but has a good heart,”

“Well that’s what’s important isn’t it?” Bill pressed the button to call the elevator, and luckily the doors instantly opened with a ding.

“I suppose so,” Eddie replied as they moved into the elevator. Bill leaned over and pressed the button for the ground floor. Instantly, the doors whirred shut. A few moments later and they started to move down.

Apparently, this was too much of a challenge for Richie and despite having Bill and Eddie as crutches, the messy haired boy somehow still found himself on the floor.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Bill muttered. This was going to be a long journey back home.

 

 

Craig woke up to the sound of a phone ringing. Sighing deeply, he turned on his bedside lamp and immediately winced; even the dim light was too much for him at this time of night. He reached over for his phone and immediately answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hi Craig!” A voice speaking urgently emitted from the phone. It was Ben Hanscom, “I know it’s late but this is urgent and I-”

“Ben,” Craig interrupted, “It’s one in the morning, what on Earth is so important that you ring me at such an ungodly time?”

“Sorry, sir, I really am but Harry called me, you see, and I didn’t know who else to call,” Ben quickly explained, “You see, there’s been an incident,”

“An incident?” Craig frowned, “And also, you don’t need to call me sir, Ben. Just call me Craig,”

“Sorry sir, I mean Craig,” Ben corrected, “And yeah there’s been an incident. Man dead, almost definitely aliens,”

“God dammit,” Craig sighed, “I was hoping for a peaceful day,”

“I’m sorry sir, I mean Craig,”

“It’s fine, Ben,” Craig assured him, “It’s not your fault. Now then, whats the location?”

“The Jackson Street and Witcham street intersection, by the storm drain,”

“Oh not this place again,” Craig sighed once more, “I’ll be there in 10, see you there,”

“Ok, Craig,” Ben finished, sounding proud that he hadn’t said ‘sir’. Craig hung up the phone and sighed for what felt like the millionth time in the last minute alone. From beside him, he could feel the movement of his wife.

“What is it, love?” she asked him sleepily, as she rolled over to his face him.

“Just work, Miranda,” he replied softly. She let out a deep sigh and he smiled, clearly he wasn’t the only one would sigh like hell tonight.

“Your bloody work,” Miranda huffed, rolling over to get back to sleep, “Just make sure you’re back in time for date night,”

“Of course, dear,” He got up out of the bed and made his way to the closet to get dressed. This was going to be a long night.

 

 

By the time Bill flung the door of his apartment open and got inside, he was bloody knackered. Richie had proven to be a massive handful the entire journey back, and Bill was about ready to crash into his bed and stay there until the morrow.

Even Eddie, who Bill knew had a massive ass crush on Richie, was getting tired of him (but then if Bill was honest, that was their entire friendship summed up in a few words).

“I’ll leave you two to sort out sleeping arrangements,” Bill told them both, “I’m going to bed,”

“Alright then Bill,” Eddie said as Bill made his way across the living room and into his room. As he stepped inside, Bill shut the door on the beginning of the two lovebirds conversation (that would probably turn into a row, knowing them).

Taking off his tracksuit bottoms and flinging off his t-shirt so he was left only in his blue boxers, Bill switched off his bedroom light and flung himself into his bed, wrapping himself up in the warmth.

Finally happy to be in his bed, Bill shut his eyes tight and drifted off to sleep.

 

 

By the time he pulled up to Jackson Street in his car, the police were already there. Craig saw that they were taping off the area and setting up a large temporary light, which was definitely needed as all the street lights on this intersection were not working for whatever reason.

Stepping out of his car, Craig made his way onto the scene of the crime. In the distance, he could see Ben already examining the body. Craig smiled at that, it truly was a good decision to hire Ben onto their team.

Just as he was about to head over to Ben, he was stopped by a dark-haired policewoman.

“Excuse me sir,” she said, “You can’t enter this area, it’s a crime scene,”

Almost instantly, Craig reached into his pocket and took out his ID. Flashing the inside page to her, he stated, “Craig Thornton – leader of the Casanova agency, I’m here to take a look at the scene,”

The reaction was instant. Her eyes widened and she started, “Oh I’m sorry, sir, didn’t realise it was you. I suppose you’ll want Harry?”

“Yes I will,” he responded kindly, “Tell him to take his time, I need to have a quick look at the body,”

“Ok sir,” she said before speed walking to find him.

Craig moved forward, ducking under the police tape and going forward onto the scene. When he arrived at the body, it took a lot of willpower not to gag.

The body was clearly male and his arms and legs were sprawled out across the floor. His entire lower half was completely intact; it was only when you looked to the head did things turn sour. Quite simply put, it wasn’t there.

In replacement of it was puddles of blood, bits of skin and mashed up brain. It didn’t take an Einstein to figure out that the man’s head had exploded leaving behind it a bath of gore. For some strange reason, it wafted a smell vaguely similar to that of burnt toast.

“Alright then Ben?” Craig asked, looking down at the boy who was kneeling by the body and scanning it with a fancy looking device,  “Found anything yet?”

“Not yet,” answered Ben, not taking his eyes off the body or the scanner, “Nothing makes any sense!”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen readings of this kind!” exclaimed Ben, “It’s like whatever did this wasn’t even an alien! They don’t even appear to be from this dimension!”

“Not from this dimension?” Craig asked in shock, “But that’s not even possible,”

“I know,” Ben interrupted, “But it’s the only explanation I have for these readings,”

“Jesus,” Craig ran a hand through his hair, “Can you get anything else from the body?”

“I mean nothing apart from what my eyes can see,” Ben told him, “Whatever did this is capable of some extraordinary things,”

“Yeah,” Craig replied, “Dangerous things too,”

For a moment they just stayed in silence, each of them pondering their own thoughts. Then Craig asked, “Is it possible to see if this creature has struck multiple times tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Ben sighed, “I mean possibly, if we get the drone up to search Derry for similar readings to this,”

“Then we’ll do that,” Craig told him, already getting his phone out, “Can you upload the readings to the cloud, please?”

“Of course,” Ben replied, getting to work.

Dialling in the number, Craig prayed that she would answer her phone. Luckily for him, it was answered.

“Hello?” came the tired voice of Andrea, clearly having just been woken up, “Who is this?”

“Good evening Andrea,” Craig spoke, “Well good morning now, I suppose. Anyway, I need you to do something for me,”

“Yes, Craig, make it quick,”

“Someone gets cranky when they’re woken up,” teased Craig.

“I need my beauty sleep,” she grumbled, “Anyway, go on,”

“Right. I need you to send out the drone. Set it to look for the readings that I’ve just had Ben upload to the cloud,”

“Has there been an incident?” Andrea asked, suddenly seeming much more alert and awake.

“Yes,” sighed Craig, “Man dead, possibly more, we don’t know yet. That’s why I need the drone,”

“I’m on it,” Andrea said. Through the phone, Craig could hear the sound of her pushing her way out of bed, “Shall I call Bev?”

“No,” Craig told her, “She’s had her work cut out for her recently with the Pennywise incident, I think she deserves a bit more of a rest,”

“Yes,” Andrea began, “I can agree to that,”

Assuring him one final time she would send out the drone within the next 20 minutes, Andrea hung up the phone. As Craig pocketed his phone, a scruffy haired chap with a rather long beard walked up to him. It was Harry.

“Alright mate?” he said, probably trying to be funny because  _why in the hell would he be alright it’s almost 2 in the morning!?_

“I guess so,” Craig said out loud, “What do we know about this then, have you got an identity?”

“Wentworth Tozier, we’re pretty sure,”

“Tozier?” Craig thought out loud. Where had he heard that name before? Was he a kid at the college he was headmaster of? Yes, that was it! “Richie Tozier is his son, I know him quite well. He’s a bit of a troublemaker,”

“Ah yes, him,” Harry said fondly, “Isn’t he the one who broke into the college to pour soil onto Mrs. Doubtwinds desk for unfairly giving his mate an F,”

“The very same. I almost felt bad for having to exclude him,” Craig smiled back. Both of them looked down to the body, their moods instantly sobering, “Poor guy. He’s gonna be distraught when he finds out,”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, “We’ll call Wentworth’s family in the morning,”

“What’ll you tell them?”

“That he’s been found dead,” Harry replied, “What else can I tell them? I can’t exactly be like ‘Ah yes your fathers been killed by an alien’ can I? They’ll think I’m ripping the piss out of them!”

“That’s fair,” Craig said, “But we will find the alien who did this and we will stop them from doing this again,”

“And if they’ve done it multiple times this night?”

“Then we’ll make sure that after this night, they never do it again,”

 

 

A squirrel scurried through the forest, darting around, up and down trees in search of nuts. The leaves crunching underneath it’s feet as it ran onward.

Then it stopped and froze still. Something was happening not far in front of it. The squirrel got closer to the thing, making sure to maintain a good distance from it.

The thing was some kind of black smoke, lying near to the ground. It was dense, extremely dense. In fact, it was impossible to see through to the other side. The squirrel didn’t know what this thing was, it didn’t understand anything at the best of times and this was just baffling to it. Confused and scared, it bounded away.

If it looked back, it would have noticed the black smoke slowly fading away. It would have noticed a tall, lanky teenage boy lying in the dirt and the leaves completely butt naked. It would have seen that the boy was not alive, that he was just lying there, apparently dead.

It would have seen the boys curly hair.


	3. The Next Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20th October 2018 - Chapter 2 completely rewritten

The obnoxious sound of his alarm clock woke Bill Denbrough from his deep sleep.

Rolling over onto his side, he whacked his alarm clock in an attempt to turn it off. When brutality didn’t stop this evil product of Satan, Bill tried once again, this time being gentler and making sure to actually land on the off button. Fortunately, this time it actually shut up.

It was only 7:00 am. Bill still technically had an hour until he had to leave his apartment for art class, and that was more than enough time for Bill to get ready. Surely he could just lay in for a few moments longer?

But no, he couldn’t. Just laying here, doing nothing, would mean it wouldn’t be long before the dour thoughts kicked in. Thoughts of  _him_  . But he was gone. Never to return. God Bill missed him already.

He supposed he could just get out his laptop and watch some vines, but what would be the point in that? To do that he would have to get out of his bed anyway and then what would be the point in returning to the warmth? He would have already been subjected to the cold reality of life.

With a sigh, Bill kicked away the covers and forced himself off the bed. Picking up the same blue t-shirt which he had worn the previous night, Bill pulled it over his head. He didn’t bother with the tracksuit bottoms, after all it was only Eddie and Richie in his apartment and Bill was pretty sure they could handle seeing him in his boxers. Opening the door, he stepped into the living room.

What he instantly noticed was that Richie lay sprawled out on the couch, still wearing the clothes that he wore last night. Somehow, his glasses had slipped off his face during the night and found themselves on the floor. With his mouth hung open wide, a pool of drool forming on the couch, the boy lightly snored. Bill thought to himself that the boy seemed rather peaceful, which was a feeling he’d have to enjoy now as when the messy haired boy awoke he’d definitely be subjected to one hell of a hangover.

What Bill noticed next was the smell of toast and the sound of somebody moving around in the kitchen. Making his way over to it, he noticed that Eddie was in there, buttering some toast. The short boy wore an oversized Hawaiian shirt that Bill knew for a fact he wasn’t wearing last night. In fact, he knew that Richie was wearing it last night. Interesting.

Stepping into the kitchen itself, Bill teased, “Is that Richies shirt?,”

The sudden unexpected voice had caused Eddie to jump quite heavily, very almost dropping the knife he was buttering with.

“Bill!” Eddie glared at him, “I could have cut myself!”

“Sorry,” Bill chuckled, moving to sit down at the small kitchen table, “So are you gonna answer my question?”

“Yes,” Eddie lightly blushed, turning back to buttering, “Yes it is. I was cold and he gave it to me, alright,”

“Is that the only reason?” Bill teased further.

“Yes, Bill, now shut up about it,” Eddie snapped causing Bill to raise up his hands in defence, “Anyway, do you want some toast?”

“Sure, why not?” Bill replied. Eddie brought him over a plate of freshly buttered toast, setting it down in front of him, “Cheers. So I assume Richie gave you his bed?”

“Yes,” muttered Eddie.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Do you believe that he likes you yet?”

“He doesn’t like me Bill” Eddie sighed, “You need to get that into your head,”

“I’m only saying what I’m seeing,” Bill told him, “And what I see is a massive ass crush,”

Eddie sighed deeply, “It was nothing, alright? He just gave me his bed so I would ‘be more comfortable’,”

“You’re just proving my point with that comment,”

“Bill, please just stop. I am tired and cannot deal with this shit right now” Eddie huffed, “I thought that maybe I could get Richie to leave the party earlier than when you came to get us. But he just kept on talking and drinking and before you know it-”

“It’s the Witching hour,” Bill interrupted, “That’s our Richie,”

“Yeah,” Eddie grunted, “He’s gonna have one hell of a hangover when he wakes,”

“I know right,” snorted Bill, “Why’re you up so early then?”

“I’ve got bloody class in two hours,” Eddie sighed, “I swear to God I’m gonna kill Finn for holding that party, I don’t even care it was his birthday,”

“You shouldn’t have gone then, like me,”

“And deal with Richies whinging for the rest of the week, no thanks,”

“You’re probably right:  _Eds, my one true love, how could you do this to me?_ ” Bill imitated Richie. In reply, Eddie just snorted. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence as they ate their toast.

Then, extremely quietly (so quietly that Bill almost thought Eddie hadn’t spoken at all), Eddie spoke, “I sometimes wonder if he actually likes me back, y’know? Then I just berate myself for even suggesting that idea; he’s only joking when he says that stuff. And I know I shouldn’t get myself so worked up over a joke, but it’s so hard-,”

“He may seem like he’s joking,” Bill interrupted, “But he means every word of it,”

“Doubt it,” Eddie muttered.

“Anyone with eyes can see how he looks at you, Eddie,”

“And how does he look at me, Bill?”

“Like you hung the moon in the sky,”

Eddie snorted, “Stop it,”

“I’m being serious!”

“I know,” Eddie retorted, “And lets say maybe, just maybe, Richie like me. But please spare me the cliché lines from the shitty romance novels you read,”

“Excuse me,” Bill acted mock offended, “I’ll have you know that they’re not ‘shitty’, they’re actually pretty well written,”

“Yeah right,”

The sound of Richie groaning interrupted their conversation. Instantly, Eddies eyes flew to the entryway, where Richie was.

“My head’s killing me,” Richie moaned, holding a hand to his forehead, “Why’d you let me drink so much, Eds?”

“I tried to stop you, but would you listen?” Eddie retaliated, “And don’t call me that,”

“Whatever you say Eds,” Richie slowly moved over to the sink, took a glass from the shelf and poured himself a glass of water. He took a long sip from the glass, “There we go, feeling better already. Good ole H₂0 wins again,”

Moving to sit down at the table, Richie asked, “So what were you two losers talking about?”

“Bill’s shitty romance novels,” Eddie replied.

“Oh yeah,” Richie smirked, ignoring Bills insistence that ‘They’re not shitty’, “You should try reading some better stuff Denbrough. I’ll lend you my DC comics if ya want,”

“No you stupid motherfucker,” Eddie argued, “Marvel is where it’s at!”

“No, Eds, DC is so much-,”

“Bill!” Eddie interrupted, “Bill back me up here,”

With them both staring at him expectantly, Bill felt oddly intimidated by his two best friends. They were already a power couple and they weren’t even dating yet, “Why not both?”

There was another beat of silence before Eddie said, “He’s got a point,”

“He really doesn’t,” Richie retorted back, a grin etched on his face, “DC all the way,”

“No you fucken weirdo Marvel-,”

Bill zoned out. As the two bickered about their comics, Bill munched on the last remains of his toast and wallowed in his thoughts. He knew he really shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help thinking about  _him_. His beautiful grey eyes, slightly wavy black hair. Bill wondered if he’d arrived in the UK yet.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Eddie and Richies expectant eyes once again staring at him.

“W-w-what is it?” Bill stammered.

“We were just wondering what-,”

“Batman or Iron-man?” Richie interrupted.

“I dunno, guys. A mixture of both?”

A beat of silence.

“Yeah!” Richie said excitedly, “That would be fucking cool!”

“I dunno,” Eddie replied, looking thoughtful, “What would his name be?”

“Biron man?” Bill suggested.

“No that’s stupid,”

“No that’s perfect,” Richie grinned, “Do you reckon he’d be bisexual?”

“And here he goes again,” Eddie sighed.

“That’s biphobic!”

“Everything to you is biphobic!”

“That’s biphobic,”

“Oh my god!”

“So then,” Bill interrupted, “How was the party?”

“It was lit!” Richie yelled.

“Please never say that again,” grumbled Eddie.

“I mean unless you count the terrible hangover, but apart from that,” Richie ignored Eddie and beamed at Bill, “You should’ve come Bill! It would’ve been great!”

“Nah thanks,” Bill answered, “I’d rather just stay here, wallowing in self-pity and watching Vines,”

“Oh come on Bill,” Richie insisted, “I heard from someone at the party that Finns holding another one next week, you should come to that one!”

“And besides,” Eddie added, “It isn’t healthy for you to be so hung up on Tristan,”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“And what better way to cheer you up than a good old party?” Richie inputted.

“I’ll think about it,” Bill told them, putting an end to the conversation.

All of a sudden, the song YMCA came from the living room. Why in the fuck had Richie chosen that as his ringtone?

“I better get that,” Richie said as he got up and left the kitchen.

“Seriously though, Bill,” Eddie spoke to him quietly, “I know what you had was good, but nothing will come from sitting in here and refusing to go out,”

“I k-know,” Bill sighed, “It’s just…”

He trailed off.

“Talk to me Bill,” Eddie said softly, “Tell me whats on your mind,”

“It’s j-just that he didn’t even want to tr-try the long distance first,” Bill managed to get out, “He just said ‘No it won’t work’ and ended things. It makes me wonder if I did or said something wrong,”

“No Bill,” Eddie spoke firmly, reaching over the table to grab his hand, “You didn’t do anything. He’s just an idiot for not even trying to keep it going with someone as amazing as you,”

“I d-don’t know about that,”

“I’m serious, Bill,” Eddie continued, stroking Bills hand gently with his thumb, “You’re a catch! And if Tristan didn’t realise that then jokes on him! Some other boy can get you now, and that boy will be one lucky guy,”

“My, my Eddie,” teased Bill, “Anyone would think you’ve got a crush on me,”

“Shut up asshole,” Eddie smiled back, taking his hand back, “You know who I’m crushing on,”

At that moment, Richie returned back into the room, looking ghostly white. A single tear trailed down his face.

“Richie,” Eddie got up out of his chair, instantly sensing something was up, “What is it?”

“It’s my dad,” Richie whispered, “He’s dead,”

 

 

Craig sat behind his desk at the Casanova Agency, taking a sip from his mug of coffee. While he usually hated the stuff, he desperately needed it in order to stay awake.

Quite simply put, he was shattered. Every now and then, he could feel his eyes droop shut. And he couldn’t have that. He needed to at the very least wait for the results from the drone before nodding off.

As if reading his thoughts, Ben walked into the room and Craig immediately perked up.

“Yes?” Craig asked, “The results, do you have them?”

“Yes,” Ben replied sombrely, “There are three other traces of the same reading we got from Jackson Street and another one that I’m not sure about,”

“Tell me about that one,” Craig said, leaning forward in his chair.

“Well like I just said, I’m not sure,” Ben began.

“Yes, but why?” interrupted Craig.

“The readings are very, very almost the same, just slightly different,” Ben answered, “I’m not sure if it’s the same creature,”

“And where did you pick up these readings from?” Craig asked, taking a rather large gulp of his coffee (it was going cold and he didn’t want to waste it).

Ben gulped, “From inside the agency itself,”

Craig almost spat out his drink in shock, “What!?”

“The reading comes from the main space,”

“Right. Check CCTV cameras and look for anything out of the ordinary, preferably an alien,”

“On it,” Ben said, turning to leave the room.

“Oh and is Bev in yet?” Craig called after him.

“I haven’t seen her, no,” Ben replied before swinging the door shut.

“Right,” Craig muttered. He knew that she deserved a lie in, but the problem was he really needed her now. He needed someone to hack in to the CCTV systems across Derry and pull the footage from all the locations where the readings were found. He’d do it himself but Bev was the only one who could do it subtly and quickly. It was part of the reason she had been hired for the job; that and she was incredibly persuasive.

Someone else entered into the room. Looking up to the door, Craig saw just the person he wanted to see.

“Bev!” he exclaimed, coming up from behind his desk and out forward to meet her at the door, “Just in the nick of time!”

“What is it?” Bev asked, “What’s happened?”

“We’ve got what appears to be another major incident,”

“Oh no,”

“Exactly. We’ve got a few incidents over Derry and I’d like you to have a look at the CCTV so we can get as much info as possible,” Craig briefed.

“On it, where are these ‘locations’ then?”

“Oh… Not sure. But ask Ben, he’ll know,”

“Alright,” she said, rushing out of the room.

Craig briefly smiled to himself before sighing deeply. He could really do with a nap right about now. Heading back to his desk, he sat down and put his feet up. He shut his eyes and willed himself to go to sleep.

Then the phone started to ring. Craig opened his eyes, cursed and swearing that after this phone call he would permanently dismantle his phone, he answered it.

“Hello?” Craig said just wanting this conversation to be over.

“Hello, Craig. It’s Dawn,” came the voice from the phone.

“Ah yes. Hello Dawn, what do you need?” he asked, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn.

“3 teachers haven’t turned up today,” she told him. Craig just sighed. Why on Earth did he decide to take two different jobs? More to the point, why had he picked two ridiculously difficult jobs (headmaster of Derry College and leader of an undercover agency)?

“Brilliant. My day just keeps getting better and better,” Craig huffed, “Tell me which ones and I’ll call them up, don’t worry about it Dawn,”

“Lovely. They’re Darcy Harris, and Thomas and Danny Fen,”

“Alright,” he said frowning, “I’ll look into it”

“Thank you, Craig,”

“Anytime,” he finished before hanging up. As soon as he did so, he began dialling the number for Thomas, confused. Tom had never taken a day off of work and always got in super early to prepare for his classes and that was the same with his husband and Darcy. This was certainly very odd.

For a few moments, the phone rang, and rang, and rang. And then it went to answerphone. He wasn’t answering, something else Tom never did. This was far beyond odd now; something was wrong.

Just as he was about to try and call again, his phone rang. It was Harry.

“Harry,” Craig began, “What news do you have?”

“Nothing to do with the alien I’m afraid, but I felt like this does concern you anyway,”

“How so?” Craig frowned.

“Well, it’s a murder. And the victim is one of your teachers,”

“What?” he stood up out of his chair, “Which one?”

“I believe we’ve identified him as Thomas Fen,”

“Shit,” Craig muttered. Then he spoke to Harry, “I’ll be at the scene in 10,”

“Ok, see you soon,”

Hanging up the phone, Craig immediately set off for the door and for Ben. Before leaving he had to know if the drone had gotten readings from Orchard Avenue, the street where Tom and Danny lived.

“Ben,” called Craig as he speed walked to the boys desk.

Turning around from checking the CCTV, Ben asked, “Yeah?”

“I need to know the locations of where you picked up the readings,”

“Okay,” Ben took a moment to think, and then answered, “We got them on Market Street by Winston’s Jewellery, the obvious places we’ve already discussed and quite a strong signal from Orchard Avenue,”

Craig took a sharp inhalation of breathe. So one of his teachers had been killed by the creature. And not only a teacher, someone who he was great friends with. This was no longer just about stopping a hostile alien, this was now personal.

Telling Ben that he was going out, he went into his office to quickly grab his coat and headed for the exit. It no longer mattered that he was tired. He had a creature to stop.

 

 

Arriving at campus, a flask of coffee from ‘Derry Coffee’ (not the most adventurous name) in hand, Bill could feel the slight chill of the early morning.

After Eddie had left to take Richie to his mother’s house, Bill had been left alone to get ready for the day ahead. He had decided to wear his usual outfit; a checkered flannel shirt, faded grey jeans and a pair of white vans.

Now Bill found himself strolling past other people, his headphones in. He was listening to the soundtrack of a musical called ‘Kinky Boots’. One of his close friends, Mike, had been cast in performing a production of it at the college and as a result had insisted that Bill had to listen to it. While musicals were most definitely his thing (his favourite being Heathers), he had never actually listened to this particular soundtrack and he was already finding he quite enjoyed it.

Walking through the corridor that led to his class to the sound of ‘Land of Lola’, he found it was so much emptier than usual. On an average Monday, people from his class would be bustling about, grumbling about being awake and generally everything was so much livelier. But there was nobody.

Nobody save a boy with slicked back dirty blonde hair, who was sitting on a bench opposite his class entrance and watching something on his iPhone. It was Finn, the birthday boy from the party.

Bill didn’t know if he should go up to the boy and talk to him. Sure, he had been perfectly nice yesterday, but there was still a part of him that thought Finn might turn out to be a massive jackass.

Obviously sensing his presence, Finn looked up at him. For a moment, he just looked at him, his eyes devoid of any actual emotion. Then his green eyes lit up in recognition.

“Auburn haired kid!” Finn declared, a grin on his face.

“Bill, actually,” he corrected, pausing his music and taking his earphones out, “Where is everyone, do you know?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Finn told him, that grin still not wiped off his face. Instead, he got up off the seat and slowly sauntered over to Bill, “If I had to guess, I’d say class is cancelled,”

“Really? Why?”

“Like I said, no clue,” Finn answered, now right in front of him, “So Bill. Do you come here often?”

“Yes,” Bill simply responded, “My class is just down the corridor,”

“Oh,” Finn said, “Oh yeah,”

“Is that your attempt at flirting?”

“Is it working?”

“No,”

“Dammit,” Finn smirked.

For a moment there was silence. And then out of the blue Bill asked, “You’re a basketball player, yeah?”

“Erm, yeah?” Finn asked, slightly confused.

“And pretty popular?”

“Well I don’t like to toot my own horn, but I’d so say so,”

“And you’re gay?”

Finn blinked. Then again. Then again. Then he laughed.

“Yes mate,” he said through the laughter, “As gay as the Fourth of July,”

“Was that a Starkid reference?” Bill chuckled.

“Yep,”

“Wow, gay and likes musicals. Not what I was expecting when I first saw you,”

“Never judge a book by its cover, eh?” Finn smirked some more, “Anyway, what were you expecting?”

“Stereotypical douchebag jock. Bit of a fuckboy, catcalls girls, etcetera, etcetera,” Bill explained.

“Well then,” He grinned, “I guess I surprised you a bit?”

“A bit,” Bill replied, grinning back “Instead, we just have a gay version of all those things”

“Wow, I’m wounded,” Finn pretended to be offended, holding a hand to his chest dramatically.

“Ah well,” Bill shrugged his shoulders, “Any other surprises I should know about?”

“Well, I read fanfiction,”

Bill blinked.

“Even more surprises,”

“More specifically,” Finn continued, “I read Byler fanfiction because that shit is canon and you cannot change my mind,”

“Fair enough,” Bill laughed.

“Y’know what I think is crazy,” Finn explained, lowering his voice to such a level that Bill half expected him to pull out a tin foil hat and place it on his head, “That Richie Tozier kid who you picked up yesterday looks so much like Flynn Dogsoft, the guy who plays Mike,”

“Wow,” Bill said, thinking about this for the first time, “Yeah, I can totally see it,”

He would definitely have to share this information with Richie when he saw him next, if only to try and help cheer him up a little. The boy would definitely be needing it.

“So then Billy,” Finn started, “In regard to my flirting earlier-”

“Why were you doing it?” Bill cut across him. Finn just gave him a light smile.

“Well I mean I think you’re kinda really cute and I’m pretty sure that you’re gay too and I’m just wondering if maybe you wanna, like, go out some time?”

“I-I-” Bill didn’t know what to say. He took a few moments to gather his thoughts before saying, “I don’t think I can,”

“Oh,” Finn replied, his expression turning downcast.

“Not because I don’t think you’re cute, like you definitely are. And I’d love to, honestly, at some point. But not now,”

“Why?” asked Finn softly, frowning slightly.

“I’ve just gotten out of a relationship, I need some time to get over it,”

“Oh,” Finn’s eyes widened, “I’m so sorry, are you alright?”

“I’m doing better. I’m just trying to forget about it, and failing,”

“You’ll get over it eventually, Billy, don’t worry,” Finn replied, “I imagine if I’d just been broken up with it’d take me a while to move on too,”

“You mean you’ve never been in a-,”

“Nope,” Finn smiled lightly, “I mean it’s not like there are a lot of gay peoples out there,”

“I know right,” Bill said bitterly, “And then you think you’ve found the right person and they just dump you,”

“Don’t worry Bill,” Finn comforted him, “Here, I’ve gotta way to make you feel better: come to my party next week, it’ll be a blast!”

 “Oh I don’t know,” Bill said unsure.

“Come on, babe. It’ll be fun!” Finn grinned.

“Did you just call me babe?” Bill raised his eyebrow.

“Maybe,” Finn winked, “So how about it? A party with your favourite blonde-haired cutie?”

“Will it be on a Sunday?” Bill asked.

“Not if you don’t want it to be,”

“Fine,” Bill said, “I’ll think about it,”

“That’s all I ask,” Finn said, wrapping an arm around Bill, “How about we walk and talk? I gotta get to my Computer Science class and I really don’t wanna stop talking to you yet,”

“I guess I no longer have anywhere else to be right now,”

“Great,” Finn smiled.

As they set off walking, Bill asked Finn, “So what do you do in Computer Science?”

“It’s so difficult,” complained Finn, “Let me tell you…”

As Finn explained the difficult task ahead of him, they strolled in toe through the hallway and out into the open air. Bill was not surprised to find that it was still rather chilly. He really wished he wore another jacket.

“So then, babe” Finn smiled, “I think this is where we gotta part ways,”

“I guess so,” Bill returned, “Also are you gonna keep calling me babe?”

“Maybe…” Finn said mysteriously, as if he was motherfucking Dumbledore.

“Well I guess I don’t exactly hate it,”

 “Great,” Finn interrupted with a smirk, “I’ll see you around then, Billy,”

“I guess so,” Bill replied, “I’ll see you around Finn,”

Blowing him a kiss, Finn smiled at him one last time before turning around and walking away.

Well then, Bill thought to himself, that was certainly an exchange and a half.

 

 

Eddie sat on the flowery sofa. Richie lay next to him, and had nested himself in Eddies arms. Part of Eddie wanted to blush like mad and be extremely flustered about the entire situation. But the rest of him knew that he had to be strong in this moment, for Richie.

Richies mum, Maggie, was making some tea for them all to calm themselves down. She had managed to control herself surprisingly well, or at the very least more so than her son.

Eddie had never seen Richie like this. Sure, he had seen the messy haired boy have bad days. But he had always quickly come back to normal, cracking a witty joke or doing a stupid accent. But this…

The only way to describe it was that Richie was broken. And it was up to Eddie to pick up the pieces.

Eddie knew that Richies relationship with his father hadn’t always been good. Back in their early teenage years, Eddie had often had Richie staying over at his house in order to get away from his father. But as time passed, their relationship had improved. Often, Richie, Wentworth and Maggie would just go off together on little road trips with no proper destination in sight.

Eddie envied those family trips more than anything; his relationship with his mother had never been too good. She always had spent more time fussing about the problems he didn’t have rather than the problems he did have. And while Wentworth and Richie had gotten better, she and Eddie hadn’t. That was something Eddie had always envied about Richie.

“Hey, Rich,” Eddie asked softly, “How’re you holding up?”

“Alright, I guess,” Richie replied, his voice hoarse from his crying. Eddie heart broke even further for the boy.

“Everything will be alright, Richie,” Eddie said firmly.

“Promise?” Richie asked, looking up directly into Eddies eyes. He was too close to Eddie, much too close. But for some reason, Eddie found he didn’t really care.

“Promise.” Eddie replied, not wavering from his firmness.

For a moment, they just looked into each other’s eyes. And then Richie started leaning in, and so was Eddie. This can’t be happening, it can’t be happening! But it was. It was happening. Eddie was aware of every tiny detail on Richies face: every eyelash, every freckle. Eddie closed his eyes. He could feel Richies light, cool breath on his face.

“Alright then,” Maggie said, entering the room with a tray of tea causing Richie and Eddie to fly apart to opposite ends of the sofa, “I’ve got some tea,”

“Thank you, Mrs. Tozier,” Eddie said, breathless.

“How many times, dear, call me Maggie,” she insisted, a kind smile plastered on her face. It didn’t seem natural, as if she were hiding many emotions behind it. But that was understandable, very understandable. She had just lost her husband. And her son had just lost his father. And Eddie had just tried to kiss him.

Eddie looked to Richie, trying to make eye contact, but Richie just continued to stare at the floor.

And now everything was going to be super awkward, god dammit!

 

 

Bill Denbrough? Why was this person so important to this shapeshifter? Tristan just couldn’t get their mind around it.

After the plane explosion, Tristan had searched high and low for a place to stay to repair its body. After a long search, they had decided upon a rather large part of the sewage system. It may not have been completely hygienic, but it was better than nothing.

And now Tristan hovered, not in physical form but instead as the black smoke, and waited. That’s all they could do after all. With the spare time, they pondered Bill Denbrough. Was he a shapeshifter too? Is that why Tristan was so obsessed?

They would have to confront Bill as soon as they were ready to go out into the world. But at this rate, it would take years. There must be a better way!

And then it hit them. It was so obvious Tristan didn’t even know why it had taken them so long to figure it out.

Sorry Bill Denbrough, pondering about you was over for the time being because now Tristan knew how to get their strength back. Sure it would take a little planning and a few more days to be ready.

But then his strength would return.


	4. Later on

Tom’s dead, pale body lay on the sidewalk in front of him, a light blue blanket covering up most of his body leaving only his head on display. His brown eyes were open and glazed over, forever looking into the world but not seeing a thing.

Craig’s life had now been deeply changed forever. One of his best friends had been ripped from the world. He could barely conceal his trembling rage.

“What do you know so far?” Craig asked Harry, gritting his teeth.

“From the evidence we’ve gathered, it appears that he was in the shower when something happened to him. It also appears he was choked to death,”

Choked? That was a very human way to kill someone. What if the perpetrator wasn’t the alien, but instead a human?

“And his husband?”

“We don’t know,” Harry sighed, “Their house is empty,”

“Right,” Craig frowned, “Have we got any witnesses?”

“No,” Harry answered, “But we’re going to knock on the neighbours doors in a moment, see if they heard anything,”

“No need,” Craig told him, “Their neighbour is Darcy Harris, works at the college. I’ll need to speak to her anyway and I’ll check if she heard anything too,”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry looked down to the body once more and letting out a shaky breath, “This isn’t right, first Wentworth now him. How many victims of last night are there?”

“We will find who did this Harry, I promise you,” Craig put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “And we will stop them, no matter what it takes,”

“But what if-,”

“No, stop,” Craig interrupted him, “We will stop them. We will.”

“But-,”

“We will,” he repeated firmly, “Now I’m gonna go to Darcy’s house,”

“Okay,” Harry replied, his voice shaky, “Shout if you need anything,”

Moving away from the body and towards the house, he pushed open the metal gate. He moved up the cobble path towards the oak door and rapped it twice.

For a moment, he waited there in the afternoon sunshine waiting for it to open and to be greeted by the elderly lady.

“Oh hello Craig, good to see you,” she would say to him, inviting Craig into her cosy home. They would then spend a sizeable time just chatting. Whether it be the latest news or something that happened at the college, they still managed to make the hours quickly pass by when they were just chatting.

In fact, often Craig and his wife found themselves round her house on Sundays for a delicious roast where they could chat all goddamn day. Sometimes other teachers even joined them in their chatting.

But none of that happened. There was no chatting, only silence. Nobody came to answer the door. Craig tried rapping the door another few times, but still nobody came.

“Darcy,” Craig decided to call out, “It’s me, Craig. Could you open up, please, I need to ask you some questions,”

Still nothing. He would have to go in. Using the key that Darcy had given him to use in the case of emergencies (and this was definitely an emergency), he let himself into the house. The first thing he noticed when he entered the home was the stench of burnt toast. In fact, it was a smell almost identical to the one at the Wentworth crime scene.

“Darcy?” Craig called out once more, “Are you in?”

He slowly made his way through the hallway and turned into the living room. He recoiled in shock.

Slumped on the ground was the naked and very dead body of Danny Fen. His face was buried in the fluffy rug and Craig noticed that on his back was a rather complex and red scar. It ran thickly down his spine and had several smaller lines branching off like a tree. But Darcy wasn’t in there.

Craig quickly raced back outside.

“I’ve found Danny,” he yelled to Harry, the bearded man instantly turning to him, “He’s in here,”

With a panicked expression, Harry turned to one of the cops, a dark-skinned female, and gestured for her to follow him. They ran up the pathway to meet him.

Seeing the body once was bad enough, seeing it twice was pure hell.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry exclaimed, “How the hell did he end up in here?”

“No idea,” Craig replied.

“And that smell! It’s fucking awful!”

“And it’s the same smell as the Wentworth crime scene,”

“So they’re connected then?” Harry asked fearfully.

“Almost certainly,” Craig answered before lowering himself onto the floor. He traced with his finger along the lines of the deep red scar, “What do you reckon this is?”

“No idea,” Harry responded, “Some kind of mark from the killing?”

“What are the chances that Tom has the same marks?”

“We could always check,” Harry turned to the officer. Getting the message, she nodded and left to go outside, “And should I check if Wentworth has the same scars?”

“Yeah, that would help,” murmured Craig, still tracing the lines. Behind him, Craig could hear Harry leaving the room to make the call. From his pocket, Craig took out his iPhone and took a picture of the scars. He messaged it to Ben along with a message asking him to upload the image to the Cloud, just in case they needed it.

Harry entered back into the room. “Yep, Wentworth has the same scars,”

“And so does Tom,” The dark-skinned police officer raced back into the room, sounding as if she had just run a marathon.

“So we’ve found a way to deduct if someone has been killed by this creature, that’s a good start,” Craig got back up onto his feet with a grunt, “We still need to actually find the bugger and stop it though,”

“Any ideas on how to actually do that?” Harry asked.

“We’ll think of something, Harry,” Craig told him, “For now, though, I’m going to call Ben and have him uses the satellites to see if something has happened in the rest of the world. It’ll take a few days but it’s the best lead we’ve got,”

“And in that time something will have come up,”

“Yes,” Craig agreed, “I’m gonna also put out word to try and find Darcy, it’s obvious she isn’t here,”

“We’ll find her in a day, tops, I reckon,”

“Well done, Harry. A good positive attitude, will definitely help.” Craig smiled.

He only hoped that a positive attitude would be enough.

 

 

Bill was sat on the sofa in his apartment drawing in his pad of paper, the television playing the news in the background. He didn’t really have an aim with this one, and was really just doodling aimlessly and hoping for the best. Right now, the figure was a bit of mess and the only discernible feature it had was a mop of curly hair resting upon its head.

Just at that moment, Bills phone rang. Putting down his pad of paper beside him, he leaned over to it. It was Eddie.

“Hey Eddie,” He answered the call, putting it on loudspeaker and setting it down on the coffee table, “How’s Richie holding up?”

“Not good,” Eddie sighed, “I’m back at my apartment now. He said he’s gonna stay round his mums for a while,”

“That’s fair,” Bill replied, picking up his paper and going back to drawing as he spoke, “Why’d you leave Richie so early then?”

“There was…” Eddie paused, “An incident,”

“Incident?” Bill raised his eyebrow, briefly pausing his shading of the face, “What incident?”

“Well, erm,” Eddie stuttered, “You see, I may or may not have accidently almost kissed him,”

“You what!?” Bill shouted, stopping drawing all-together, “How the hell do you accidently kiss someone?”

“I don’t fucking know, but I did!” Eddie exclaimed quickly, “And everything was really fucking awkward and I just had to get out of there and-,”

“Eddie, calm down,” Bill interrupted, “I was only shocked, I didn’t mean to shout,”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed, “Yeah, I know. I’m just freaking cos now I’ve ruined everything. Richie’s gonna hate me,”

“He won’t hate you,”

“Yes he will,” Eddie said, “Trying to kiss someone after their father just died is a really shitty thing to do,”

“He won’t hate you,” Bill told him firmly, “You could’ve been the one to kill Richies dad and yet he still wouldn’t hate you,”

“That’s not funny Bill,”

“I’m not trying to be,” Bill replied gently, “You both will be just fine, you’ll see,”

“Yeah right,”

“Anyway,” Bill began, “How was he even killed?”

“The police won’t tell them,” Eddie answered, “And that is a shitty thing to do,”

“They must have a reason though,” Bill remarked.

“I suppose, doesn’t make it any less shitty,”

“Yeah, alright.” Bill’s attention was drawn to the tv. On it they were talking about a plane that exploded the previous night over the ocean.

At that moment, they were showing the names of the victims. Bill couldn’t help himself. He let his eyes read over the names.

His pencil slipped out of his hands.

Listed right there in bold black letters was a name he never expected (although Bill had hoped he would) to see again. Listed in between all of the other victims of this travesty was  _his_  name.

_Tristan Jackson_

Bill couldn’t help the tears that began to brim. A big fat one fell directly onto his drawing, smudging the curly hair.

“Bill? Bill are you there? Are you alright?”

 

 

It was completely pitch black in the forest where the curly haired boy lay apparently dead. The wind was strong and green leaves were constantly being picked up and thrown against the boys naked pale body.

Out of the blue, he sharply sat up and took in a deep long breath. His eyes opened.

The first thing he noticed was the biting cold hitting his bare skin and the tickling grass against his backside. Then the questions started to flood in. Where was he? Why was he here?

The boy slowly began to stand up, the leaves falling off his body as he did so. He could feel that his entire back was pretty much covered in soil, but he didn’t really care. He was feeling faint and tired and all he wanted was to find some warmth.

Arms wrapped up tight around himself, he moved slowly and stiffly forward. He didn’t know how long he walked for, his only company being the cold and the occasional bird chirping. Eventually, he saw a light in the distance. In fact, he saw a few lights. An entire street full!

Picking up the pace into an almost run, he headed in the direction of the warm orange light. In his hastiness, he didn’t notice a branch right in front of him on the ground. He tripped over it with a grunt of pain and landed face first in the dirt.

With a groan, the boy noted a cut that was now bleeding at his ankle. He had to ignore it, though. He had to get to the light.

Picking himself up off the floor, he began to limp (much more slowly and carefully this time) towards the street.

By the time he got there, he was holding on to the last strings of consciousness and was very almost losing them. The difference was notable when he stepped from the soft soil onto the hardness of the sidewalk.

With a limp in his step, he made his way down the street. He didn’t know where he was going, still. All he knew was that he had found some kind of civilisation. Everything should be okay.

Then he heard a noise and instantly turned to it. A woman who looked to be in her thirties was taking the trash out. Her brown hair was tied up in a neat bun and she wore a long brown nightdress which was patterned with outlines of all sorts of birds.

She was just putting the trash bag into the bin when she noticed him, brown eyes meeting green. Her eyes widened, as one would expect upon seeing a naked 19-year-old in the streets looking as if he’d just walked through hell.

For a moment, they held their eye contact.

And then everything went black.


End file.
